


intentional

by Noa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Implied Relationships, Incest, M/M, Stridercest - Freeform, UST, alpha stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:57:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noa/pseuds/Noa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave knows there's no way Dirk's doing it on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	intentional

Dave is on the phone as he enters the living room.

“What? Volleyball? Aren’t you supposed to do that shit indoors?” He blindly walks towards the fridge and retrieves a large bottle of apple juice from the door. He presses the phone between his ear and shoulder while he screws off the cap. “Oh. Of course there has to be a fucking beach volleyball tournament in the month we’re planning to shoot there. Why can’t they go play Dead or Alive instead. I hear cyber beaches are a lot less sandy.” Dave slams the fridge door shut and takes a swig of apple juice. “No man we’d get a cleaner shot at the fucking kiddie pool. We’ll just have to find another beach. One with less balls.” He snickers at his own joke, and pads over to the futon, opened bottle in his hand.

Dave nearly drops it when he finds Dirk already there.

“I gotta call you back.”

Dave closes the call. It takes him three tries to slide his phone back into the front pocket of his slacks.

Dirk is sprawled out on the futon (which is probably why Dave didn’t see him when he came in), holding his own phone a bit above his face, his thumbs tapping away at the screen. The fact that he’s wearing briefs a shade so bright it hurts Dave’s shaded eyes, isn’t what has Dave swaying on his feet. It’s the fact that he’s wearing nothing else.

“Dirk.” Dave wills himself to keep his voice from wavering.  
“Yeah?”   
Dave clears his throat. Keep it cool, bro.  
“Did you lose all your clothes in your latest scientific experiment or what.”  
Dirk chuckles lowly, and Dave swallows at the sound.  
“Laundry day. It’s not like you use any of that mad cash you’ve got to hire us a housekeeper.”

Dave is tempted to call bullshit. This is the third time he’s found Dirk (mostly) naked this week, and it’s not even the weekend yet. Then again, what is he supposed to say? Dave doesn’t know how Dirk keeps coming up with reasons to take off his clothes, but they’re too valid to question without making an idiot out of himself. Besides, this is Dirk’s house too, and they’re family, so why should it be awkward?

Dirk has a really nice body for someone his age. He’s not _that_ young, but he can’t get his driver’s license yet either. A kid. Dave’s kid. Dave feels a strange weight in his lower abdomen as he forces his eyes away from Dirk’s midriff. For a second he thinks he sees Dirk grinning at him, but when Dave blinks and looks again, Dirk’s face shows nothing but the patented poker face Dave’s taught him to master. Dave has absconds with a muttered ‘ok cool’ and hurried footsteps back to his room.

-

When Dave comes home from work the next day, Dirk has one foot up on the coffee table as he’s tying the shoestrings on his knee high converses. Dave frowns, and tosses his keys on the kitchen table to get Dirk’s attention. Dirk barely acknowledges his presence.

“Table’s not the place for that man.” Dave tries.

Dirk doesn’t reply. Dave sighs, shrugs out of his jacket and sits down next to Dirk on the futon. He gropes around the cushions for the remote, and starts flipping through TV channels. When Dirk takes one foot off the table with a gracelessness that can’t be anything but intentional, only to replace it with the other, Dave tries again.

“Dirk, get your feet off the damn table.” Dave hopes his voice carries the authority he was hoping to administer. When Dirk pulls his foot down without a word, his shoe only half tied, Dave settles back into the futon with a breath of victorious relief.

Then, Dirk stands up. He doesn’t bother to create any distance between him and Dave before he bends over, all the way down, his hips pushed back, and continues tying his shoelaces. Dave feels his jaw drop, and can barely prevent his lips from parting.

Dirk is wearing clothes this time -thank the Gods above-, but the tight, black jeans don’t do much to hide the smooth curve of his ass. The pose makes his shirt ride up, shows a glimpse of his subtle Venus dimples, and Dave wonders at what point he began to notice them. All he knows is that they look wonderful on him. The collar of Dave’s shirt sits uncomfortably around his throat as he grinds his teeth together. Dave’s inner monologue consists of nothing but curses and weak, self-issued orders to stop staring at his protégée’s ass.

Dave is convinced that no one in the history of humanity has ever taken this long to tie their damn shoelaces. Every time Dirk tightens the strings, his hips jut back a little and no matter what Dave tells himself, he can’t look away. After what seems like years, Dirk slowly brings himself back up, and turns around, a slight, hypnotic sway to his step as he leaves the room. Dave missed him saying goodnight, deafened his pulse pounding in his temples.

-

“Hey Dave, got a minute?”

Dave is almost too scared to look up, but when he does, the only odd thing about Dirk seems to be some sort of wide, mechanical necklace he’s wearing around his throat. Dave puts his newspaper aside, strangely relieved.

“Yeah, what’s up.”

Dirk points at the strange piece of technology. “Can you help me with this?”  
Dave frowns. “You realize I don’t know shit about electronics, right.”  
“You don’t have to, I just need you to undo the clasp. It’s stuck.”  
“Oh. Okay, sure.”

Dave moves to get up from the reading chair, but instead, Dirk leans forward and slides himself down into Dave’s lap. He tips his head back a little, exposing the device (and his throat) to his guardian. Dave freezes momentarily, and blinks behind his shades. When Dave doesn’t move, Dirk speaks up.

“It’s a small metal clasp. I think it got jammed when I adjusted the screws. Can you see it?”

Dave’s hands are shaky as he reaches for the metal.

The clasp is a lot more intricate than Dave expected, and Dirk sitting on his legs like he’s about to start a lap dance isn’t really helping Dave’s concentration. The parts he is supposed to pull apart keep slipping from his grip, and when Dave fails a fourth time, Dirk shifts forward in his lap, dragging himself up Dave’s thighs, and leans in closer. His lips are so close to Dave’s ear that he can feel him breathing.

“That better?” Dirk says calmly. Dave grips the clasp so tight that it unhinges, and a few tiny metal parts drop in between their bodies.   
“Fuck.” Dave feels as breathless as he sounds.

Dirk’s hands reach up and brush past Dave’s fingers to the device. He carefully removes it from around his neck, inspects it briefly, and sighs in relief

“It’s just the clasp, I can replace it. At least it’s off now. Thanks.”  
“No problem. Now get off.”

Dave hadn’t dared to meet Dirk’s eyes, but when the kid makes no move to leave, Dave looks up. The hungry sparkle in Dirk’s amber eyes sends a shiver up Dave’s spine.

“Dirk.” Dave breathes. He tries to sound warning but then Dirk grins, bares his teeth, and Dave is fucking terrified.

“I like the way you say my name.”

_-fin_


End file.
